


Waves Wash Over Us

by skyshadedblue



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Angst, Gen, Hopeful Ending, M/M, Minor Lydia Martin/Jackson Whittemore, Minor Melissa McCall/Sheriff Stilinski, Minor Scott McCall/Kira Yukimura, Pre-Slash, Thanksgiving, holiday fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-10
Updated: 2014-12-10
Packaged: 2018-02-28 22:08:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,080
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2748911
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/skyshadedblue/pseuds/skyshadedblue
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"I don't think you miss me, so I won't tell you that I miss you. (But I do.)" (prompt from <a href="http://howonpotter.tumblr.com">val</a>)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Waves Wash Over Us

**Author's Note:**

> i started this prompt _before halloween_ why am i like this but here just take it

Stiles steps outside and takes a deep breath, air crisp with the beginning of autumn and a hint of strong, freshly-brewed coffee. He takes another careful whiff, steam from his cup floating up to his nostrils.

He starts his way home, turning the corner smack into a hard body.

A bit of scalding coffee spills over his hand and splatters to the ground.

"Stiles?"

Stiles looks up at the voice. Of course. Because this is his life.

"Derek." 

Derek furrows his brow, looking as irritated as when they first met. "When did you get back?"

"Yesterday. You?" Stiles notices his hand slowly turning red.

"Same."

Stiles nods, his burn cooling in the breeze. "You finally joining us for the holidays then?"

Derek stills, seeming unsure how to respond.

Stiles sighs. "I guess not. Invite's always open to you if you want to come." He tries for a smile. It doesn't feel quite genuine, but Stiles gets the idea Derek doesn't care. He's not even looking Stiles in the eye.

"Okay, well," Stiles says, eager to be anywhere else but here, "That was a good chat. I'll see you around. Bye, Derek."

He walks away and Derek doesn't stop him. It feels as final as the last time.

-

Stiles doesn't know what it's like to have siblings. His dad tells him that he and Scott are brothers enough, and that is true. Stiles won't deny the bond he has with Scott is as brotherly as it gets.

That, however, is brotherhood.

Stiles imagines a sibling relationship to be more like him and Jackson. You know, a general but deep-seated affection, roiled in mean-spirited asshat-ery. Jackson fits the role of the annoyingly perfect brother, stubborn in his perfection - tempered by his need of attention, the need to be the most loved - and is spoiled at every turn.

"Fix it."

Stiles looks at Jackson. "Okay, I know we've gotten close over the years, but I have no clue what you're talking about."

He's just sitting in Lydia's kitchen, finishing up an email to a client. Stiles sees literally nothing out of place.

"Stiles." Jackson stares him down like the shit stain you can't scrub out of a toilet bowl. "You only come back to see us once a year at Christmas. Sometimes, you grace us with your presence during Thanksgiving. Derek on the other hand never comes home except maybe for a week in the summer." He crosses his arms, chest puffing. "Now the both of you are present for the holiday, but he isn't joining us because he found out you're here. Tell me there's nothing to fix."

"Oh, sweet child of summer," Stiles says. "There is nothing to fix."

"Don't 'summer child' me, Stilinski," Jackson retorts, "Just fix it."

He stalks off out the back door, presumably to leave Stiles alone in the house.

Jackson is definitely the bratty one in this fake sibling relationship if he thinks he can get what he wants simply by telling Stiles to "fix it."

-

"Hey, Scotty."

_"Stiles! Hey, I was just about to call, I'm running late 'cause Maddy was taking her sweet time waking up."_

"Nah, that's cool. Babies need their beauty sleep. Take your time."

_"Thanks, man. I'll be there soon!"_

He hangs up.

Stiles huffs, tossing his phone onto the table. It's a little before noon, the sky is bright and gray. Stiles closes his eyes and takes it in.

"Stiles."

Stiles looks to his right. "Wow, we've gotta stop meeting like this, Derek."

"What are you doing here?"

Stiles looks around. "It's a restaurant, what do you think I'm doing here?"

Derek narrows his eyes. "I meant... You came here alone?"

"I'm waiting for Scott and the little princess Maddy. Haven't met my god-daughter yet and that's kind of sacrilegious, isn't it? Taking care of that today."

Derek nods absently, looking at a spot behind Stiles' shoulder.

"You... want to sit down?"

To Stiles' surprise, Derek actually pulls out a chair and sits, albeit with a grimace.

"So..." Stiles flips through his mental index of conversation topics before settling on something safe. "How's New York?"

"Busy. How's LA?"

"Overly warm. I miss days like this. Feels nice."

It's a little sad to think about. That he and Derek used to be so close and now they've devolved to chitchatting about the weather. Then again, anything else would feel too much like friendship or something and if Stiles recalls correctly, Derek is allergic.

"Stiles!" Scott calls, walking over with a sturdy baby carrier on one arm. "Derek," he smiles hesitantly, "You're here! Are you... joining us?"

"... I ate," Derek replies, glancing over as Scott sets Maddy's carrier on a seat. He gets up. "You guys have fun." He pauses. "It was good talking, Stiles."

Stiles nods. "Yeah. We should do it again." On a cold day in hell.

"Hey, Derek should come to Thanksgiving dinner!" Scott pipes up. Maddy squeals and tugs on Scott's finger. "Derek, Maddy wants you there, look!"

And if Stiles wasn't watching Derek closely, cataloging his reaction, he'd have missed the soft upward tick of his lips.

"It's at Lydia's this year. Please come." Scott picks Maddy up out of her carrier. "Say please, Maddy."

She takes a hand and rubs it in haphazard circular motions on her chest, chanting, "Mum-mum, mum-mum!"

Scott laughs, sheepish. "She must be hungry, but she got the sign right. What do you say?"

Derek shifts, hands in his pockets. "Maybe."

"Yeah, no pressure," Scott says. "Just--let me know."

Derek glances at Stiles, holds his gaze. "Yeah, I will. See you around."

"So, you guys talking again?" Scott says once Derek is out of sight. He cradles Maddy's bottom so she doesn't slip.

"He just came up to me. We weren't ever on not-speaking terms, Scott," Stiles says, sipping his water. Smiles as brightly as he can. "Now, let me see your little bundle of joy. I can't believe this thing sprung from your loins."

"Okay gross, dude. And technically Kira did all that. I just gave her half the specs."

Stiles makes grabby hands when Scott hands her over. "You pitched the outline. Got it. What an adorable tiny human, aren't you, cutie pie?" He gets up close and personal with her nose. "She's tiny!"

"Hey, she's not crying," Scott says, "I think she likes you."

"Kids love me." Stiles holds her close to his chest, waggling his fingers in front of her face as she tries to catch them.

 

_Derek leans in to whisper in his ear, "You're good with kids."_

_Stiles scoffs. "I'm sorry, did you expect me to be_ bad _with them?"_

_Derek kisses his neck, and then stands back and flicks his nose. "Never thought about it."_

 

Maddy tries to bite at Stiles' finger and he shakes off the memory. "So tell me what achievements she's unlocked," he says, hoping Scott doesn't notice his voice cracking.

Scott laughs and pulls out his phone to show Stiles a video of Maddy crawling around. Her gummy smile pushes thoughts of Derek far from mind.

-

It's a small town, but it stops being a coincidence their next meeting.

"Look, Derek," Stiles begins, but Derek stands about 3 feet away with a shopping basket lax in his hand. The only item in it is a box of mashed potatoes. A box of--

Stiles literally looks to the heavens for the strength to hold back a disparaging comment about Derek's life choices--but let's be real, no god has such power. "That is potato in powder form, why are you so trusting that you would put your faith in a powdered potato?" says Stiles, like he's speaking to an onion. And honestly, it's not too far off: like an onion, Derek has layers and makes him want to cry.

"Please tell me that is not your Thanksgiving meal." Stiles is pleading because he doesn't hate Derek. He wants Derek to have a Thanksgiving with family. Not that he has anythign against mashed potatoes from a box, but he does not want _anyone_ to have that for Thanksgiving when they could have his dad's special garlic mash and Melissa's candied yams and Chris Argent's tri tip roast.

Derek rolls his eyes, but does not say a word and that's really all the answer Stiles needs.

"Derek, you're home. And it's Thanksgiving. You should be with us for Thanksgiving, stuffing yourself with home-cooked food and basking in family. W--" Stiles scratches at his jaw. "They're as close to you as family, aren't they?"

The cookies on the shelves must be extremely interesting because Derek won't stop looking at them, even as he nods.

Stiles huffs. "Look, if the only stopping you from going is me, I can just..."

He trails off. Because he has no idea what he can do if he skips out, unless he flies back to LA.

Derek cuts in before Stiles can figure it out. "I don't mind," he says. "It would be nice. To have everyone all together again."

Stiles' eyes widen. "Uh, yeah. Yeah. So you're coming then."

Derek watches him with a steady gaze for a moment. "I guess so."

It isn't until Stiles gets back to Lydia's, safe in the confines of the guest room, that the reality of what just happened hits him.

-

Derek brings all the ingredients to make Mexican hot cocoa.

Because of course he does.

Melissa showers him with effusive gratitude; she hadn't made it in so long she'd forgotten how much she loved it. No one else had even known there was such a thing, and it's a huge hit.

Stiles sees Derek preen under her attention, quiet and shy in the way that gives him a light glow of happiness. He hasn't been privy to that look in a long while.

The beginning of the night is the very definition of smooth, the food prepared perfectly and in a timely manner, the entertainment entertaining. Everybody settles together, catching up on the newest milestones, current events, and when it fades, Maddy brings the mood back up with her babbles. Stiles keeps a close eye on everything, unable to stop himself from tensing at every loud outburst. He mostly watches Derek.

He can't help it. Everything is going too well. He and Derek haven't interacted much, outside of brief eye contact and nods of hello, and the night is still young.

They all gather around the dining table when dinner is served, holding hands for the time of thanks. Stiles tries not to think about his clammy palm in Derek's, tries not to dissect the reasons why they were sat next to each other.

Scott nudges Liam, his intern from the animal hospital, to go first.

"Well, I'm thankful to all of you for inviting me, and for making the amazing food," says Liam, grinning like a puppy. "I'd probably be in my apartment eating day-old takeout if not for this. Thanks, guys!"

Scott, beside him, smiles. "I'm thankful for you too, dude. Work would be way harder without you. And I'm thankful for Maddy obviously, and Kira."

Kira lights up at that and takes her turn, thankful for Maddy too. Noshiko and Ken are thankful for Maddy as well. Argent breaks the chain by being thankful for good wine and good people, and thanking Lydia and Jackson for being wonderful hosts. They go down the line like this, most of the spotlight on the little Maddy, who stays extremely well behaved throughout.

Stiles quips, "Is today Madison McCall-Yukimura Appreciation Day and I missed the memo? Related-unrelated, I suppose I'll be thankful for the act of procreation."

Kira groans. "Stiles, there are little ears present now."

"Yeah, Stiles, you can't just says sh--stuff like that anymore!" Scott laughs.

"I'm just saying! Do you think she was delivered by a stork?"

"YES," his dad says.

"No one wants to hear you talk about sex, Stilinski," Jackson says, taking a heavy swig of beer.

"Geez, alright, alright." Stiles takes a quick moment to rethink his answer. "I'm happy that we're all here together."

Stiles straightens up in his seat before anyone can comment and gestures for Derek's turn.

"Family," he says, simply, like it's been on the tip of his tongue this entire time, waiting for its moment. "I know I haven't exactly... been around, but you've all still welcomed me with open arms, like the family I thought I'd never have again. So... thank you."

To Derek's left, Stiles catches his dad gripping Derek's hand a little tighter.

"To family," Stiles' dad cheers, raising his glass.

Melissa follows suit. "To family," she says.

"To family," they all say.

Everyone drinks.

-

The night air is brisk as Stiles walks out. It was a muggy type of warm indoors, a good excuse as any to get out and away from the noise and take a stroll around Lydia's wraparound porch.

He stops when he reaches the backyard, pulling up a patio chair and patting his belly stuffed full with the best dinner he's had in forever. The sky is perfectly clear, moon as bright and sharp as cut paper.

Stiles leans his head back and lets his eyes fall closed when he hears the floorboards creak. Light footsteps get closer and closer until he feels the presence of a warm body beside him.

"Stiles."

He keeps his eyes shut. Stiles hadn't noticed before, the way Derek's voice goes breathy and soft when he calls for him, the way it makes a tingly chill run along his shoulders that have nothing to do with being cold.

Derek heaves a long and quiet breath. "Thank you for inviting me. It was... good... I missed this."

Stiles opens his eyes slowly. "Then why did you leave?"

Derek stays silent such a long while that Stiles thinks he didn't hear him, but then he says, "You know why."

"I left, Derek. You could have stayed."

"You think I could stay here without you? Surrounded by all the things, all the places that reminded me of you? All the people that were yours and not mine?" Derek says, calm and terse all at once. "You're sutured to the very heart of this town. Staying wasn't an option."

"I think tonight proved 'these people' are as much mine as yours, Derek," Stiles replies, "Staying wasn't an option for me either."

"I know." Derek stares out into the shadows of the yard, arms hanging limp at his sides. "It was my fault."

"What?" Stiles looks at Derek. "I moved away for school. That was my decision. My choice."

"You could've come back."

Stiles doesn't answer. Crickets chirp below the steps.

Around Stiles' 17th birthday, Derek gave him a hug. It was all he needed, but at that time, even just the sight of Derek would envelop him in warmth and loneliness would become a memory. Then, Stiles turned 18, he met the cold, and he couldn't recall warmth was like.

"No," Stiles says.

It's Derek's turn to be silent, perhaps mulling a reply, but Stiles does not offer him the chance.

"I was broken, Derek," he says, slowly, "I don't want to say you broke me, but I let myself fall to pieces because I thought there was nothing left to hold me together. I left because I was broken. I never moved back because this town... it breaks me all over again. Every time."

Derek's lips are drawn tight. If Stiles were 10 years younger, he might have had the confidence to guess what that face meant.

He's not. His fingers jerk of their own volition. They itch to reach into his pockets for his phone. His keys. Something to fidget with. Anything to give him some illusion that he wasn't about to implode.

"You hadn't come back either, so if we're pointing fingers, you don't have the right..." Stiles' throat stops. _I don't think you miss me anyway._

"I won't tell you that I miss you. But they do." _But I do._ He holds his breath to keep his words steady. "They worry about you. Don't you think it's time to stop running?"

Derek turns his head to him and finally replies, "Don't you think it's time you stop too?"

The silence feels final, and Derek withdraws inside.

-

The rest of the weekend flies by without much fanfare. Black Friday comes and goes like the wind.

Stiles packs his suitcase on Sunday, more than ready to make the drive back down in time for work the next day.

"Lydia! Jackson! Have you seen my charger?" he yells downstairs.

"Use your eyes! It's in your computer bag!" Lydia shouts back in reply.

Stiles finds it in the front pocket, clicking his tongue as he zips it all back up.

A knock at his door startles him to look up.

"Derek, what are you doing here?"

"Scott's my ride to the airport and he and Maddy wanted to give you one last goodbye," Derek explains, smiling to himself a little, "I called dibs."

"Dibs, huh..." Stiles continues organizing his clothes, looks around for things he might have left behind, trying to keep an unbidden smile from creeping onto his face. "You know, one-upping Scott only works when you're not leaving a little baby out in the cold with him."

"I'm not a monster, Stiles, she has a million blankets. I just--I just... wanted to say goodbye. Properly this time."

Stiles looks to Derek, can't even appreciate the bluster, just pauses and really looks. There's an edge to him, tense and neat; shoulders held rigidly close to his ears, hands hidden behind his back and feet shoulder's width apart. Body clenched so taut, as if waiting for that one gentle brush of fingers to soften it. And for all that Stiles has lost the ability to read him, he thinks he gets the message here loud and clear. Maybe Derek misses him, maybe he doesn't. But that doesn't matter because the man does miss something around here.

"Christmas," he says.

"What?" Derek's eyes are wide as saucers and Stiles laughs to himself.

"Do you think you can make time in your schedule for us at Christmas?" Stiles locks up his luggage and sets it upright. He leans on it, watching for Derek's response.

Something in Derek's eyes seems to flip a switch. "Yeah!" he says, "I mean, yeah. So, I'll see you then."

"Yeah, cool. See you then."

Stiles grins as Derek leaves, because maybe, it's time to stop running.

**Author's Note:**

> thanks for reading ;;; please let me know if i made any mistakes or left out necessary tags


End file.
